


Introduction to Mutual Therapy

by AlmightyMirage



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: But neither feature in this fic, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post Season 6, Studying, Therapy, background Jeff/Annie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmightyMirage/pseuds/AlmightyMirage
Summary: Britta seeks out Duncan for help with studying for his class. However, after a while the study session gets derailed as they start talking about their personal lives.
Relationships: Ian Duncan/Britta Perry
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	Introduction to Mutual Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a spinoff of sorts from Introduction To Something More, and takes place in the week after chapter 21. It can however be read on its own as a character study of sorts.

“…and that’s how I won paintball, the whole shebang.”  
Britta Perry somehow found herself in the company of Ian Duncan, who for the past two months had been her Professor in Experimental Psychology and Cognitive Psychology. Things had been going fairly well, at least compared to the previous year, but she still felt herself struggling with learning directly from the provided books. That’s why, on the suggestion of Annie, she found herself sitting in an empty classroom with Duncan. 

She had been hesitant about the idea for a little bit, but eventually gave in after she got stuck in the book yet again the evening prior, and decided she’d ask for his help after class. As Jeff and Annie had both predicted, Duncan hadn’t even hesitated in saying yes, and had sat himself down beside her. They had hinted at Duncan’s motivations possibly being driven by other things than just wanting to help, but as long as he willingly helped her learn this stuff and didn’t do anything too weird, it was something she was willing to put up with.

And so far, it had been very useful. As she had learned after he returned to Greendale two years prior, Duncan was actually a very capable professor when he turned up sober and was motivated. And teaching psychology as opposed to anthropology seemed to help his motivation greatly. 

If she were to be honest with herself, she had seen the writing on the wall quite early on with psychology. She had declared her major as psychology, having felt so good from helping Abed, and having been intrigued by a brief introductory one-day class she had taken with Duncan in her second year at Greendale. However, by the time she had declared it as her major, Duncan had left Greendale, and was replaced by a rather lousy replacement. The result had been that she didn’t learn much in class, and she struggled equally learning from the book without the study group to help her out with the subject.

But when Duncan returned in her fifth year, she saw an upswing in her grades. She still didn’t learn an awful lot from the books, but Duncan was a charismatic and engaged lecturer when he was sober and spoke about psychology, and it had helped her learn better and feel more comfortable about her studies. That was, until Duncan yet again had disappeared for a year. Britta’s grades had once again faltered as Greendale failed to draft in a good replacement, and the year had overall been miserable from a school perspective. But now he was back, hopefully for a bit longer than a year so Britta could actually finish up her degree.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I was wondering about, but I supposed congratulations are in order.” Duncan replied after she had detailed how she’d won the paintball war that past weekend. 

“Oh, right. By the way, what happened to you? We didn’t see you after everything went crazy.” Britta asked him. 

“I got caught in the crossfire trying to escape. Eliminated before I even fired a shot, and they ruined my coat. All thanks to that bloody idiot Chang.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Ah well, at least you had your fun.” 

“But uhm. I forgot, what did you even want to ask me about?” 

“I was wondering about what you told me at the party, about where your feelings about meat originated from, since you evidently feel quite strongly about it. But then we got distracted, so I never got an answer.” Duncan reminded her.

“Oh! Uhm, I think it began when I was a kid. We always had animals at home, which I considered my best friends. I didn’t really have that many friends growing up, and none I was close with. Animals were really comforting to me. Animals were friends to me, so when I learned in school where meat came from, that was hard to take.” Britta began explaining.

“Ah. You have quite a few cats, do you not?” Duncan asked.

“Not that many right now, I had to give them up for adoption after I became homeless. I couldn’t pay for rent, so I didn’t have anywhere to keep them. And I could barely afford to feed them. So, I made sure to find them some nice homes, and just kept Chomsky.”

“Aptly named cat.”

“Yeah, I guess it is a bit fitting, given the class.” Britta agreed with a chuckle. “What about you, had any animals?”

“If I’m to be honest, not really. Back in England, we lived above a pub, so cats weren’t exactly allowed. I moved over here with my grandfather, and he got himself a dog eventually, but he was never really my responsibility. But I don’t mind animals either, just never really grew up with them.” Duncan explained wistfully. 

“That’s fair.”

“But did your disdain for meat only come from having animals growing up? Lots of people do, and if I may say so, very few end up as vegetarian, vegan or whatever it is you call it.” 

“First of all, that’s rude. Secondly, my reasons are _completely_ legitimate!” Britta instantly responded, taking great offense to Duncan’s question.

“Sorry, sorry. That came out the wrong way. I’m merely wondering if there’s more to the story.” Duncan clarified.

Britta took a deep breath to settle herself. “Well, first of all, I’m a vegetarian. And there is more to it. After I learned where meat came from in school, I asked my parents about it. They confirmed it to me, but when I told them I didn’t want to eat my friends, they told me I was ridiculous and forced me to eat meat anyway. Because that’s what they always did, they never let me make my own decisions. For a while, they got me to do it, reluctantly, but once I became a teenager, I stumbled over this video on, I think it was National Geographic or something, about how meat was made, and specifically processed meat. And watching it, I was just so disgusted and mad. So, I swore to avoid eating it ever again, and told my parents as much. Naturally, the belittled me and told me I was just _‘overreacting’_ , because that’s what they _always_ said when I did something they didn’t agree with and got mad at them.”

“Ah, parents. The roots of many a person’s issues.” Duncan commented.

“I’m not looking for your therapy.”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

“Anyway, once I ran off at 17, I started protesting, and treatment of animals, both those killed for food and other ones, became one of my main focuses. And that’s why I get so mad about meat and processed foods.” Britta wrapped up.

“Fascinating. You know, you are a very intriguing person. You’re bold, opinionated, and you aren’t afraid to tell those opinions to anyone.” Duncan complimented.

“Aw, thank you.”

“By the way, can I ask about your parents?” 

“Duncan, I don’t want therapy.”

“I’m aware, I’m merely curious about them.”

“Fine. My parents are, or were at least, controlling, difficult assholes, who never wanted to let me be myself. They just wanted to shape me into whatever ideal image they had for their daughter and couldn’t accept that I wasn’t that person. And the more they pushed, the angrier I got at them. And it’s not just the meat thing, or that they wanted to control what I dressed in up until I moved out, or got my cat killed because I tried alcohol once, or had me drug tested when I was _eleven_!?” Britta ranted angrily, gradually building herself up, before she capped it off by angrily slamming her fist against the table.

Duncan sat there for a moment in stunned silence, his mouth slightly agape, but no sounds came out. “Woah.” He finally muttered.

“Sorry, classic Britta. I worked myself up again and went crazy.” Britta said apologetically.

“No, it’s okay. It’s evident you needed to get that out. And you’re not crazy, many people have a lot of pent up frustration about their parents. My own parents were no better. My mother was a whore, we lived above a pub, and my father left us both. Shortly after, I begged my grandfather to take me with him to America, and here I am.” Duncan explained, attempting to related to her with parental issues.

“Eerily reminiscent of Jeff.” Britta commented.

“Not just Jeff, I believe. Jeff doesn’t talk to his father, that’s correct, but Annie doesn’t speak with hers, and Abed’s relationship with his father is strained. Or so I seem to recall.” 

“Huh.” Britta said, seemingly a bit lost in thought. “I guess you’re right. By the way, did you know they all know my parents? They accepted money from my parents to ‘ _help_ ’ me, and even knew them by name. They had visited, ate their food, and they believed my parents were great! But they didn’t realize, they still don’t, how much they hurt me. They went behind my back, they lied to me. I know it was to help me, and I _realize_ that they meant well, but it still hurts that they don’t even believe me when I tell them how horrible my parents were.”

“Well that’s not great. But not to excuse them of anything, but I’m not entirely surprised either. It appears that they encountered your parents somehow and liked them. And while they don’t know the past, your parents might have been the parental figures all three of them wished to have in their lives.” Duncan theorized.

“I guess, but that doesn’t make it any easier to forgive them for believing my parents over me.” 

“Naturally, but impressions are hard to change. People believe what they see. If they can’t see what happened before, they won’t easily believe it even if they’re told so by someone they trust. I’m not attempting to excuse their behavior, but them being drawn to your parents as parental figures in their lives isn’t entirely unnatural, given their lack of such figures in their own lives.”

“Hmph. I guess.”

“How is your relationship with them now anyway?” Duncan asked.

“My parents?” Britta asked, needing clarification.

“Yes.”

“It’s not…great, but it exists. They’re trying to help, but I like to keep them at a distance.” 

“I suppose that is better than nothing.” Duncan replied.

“It is. But I don’t feel like they understand me, you know? They accept that I am who I am now, I think, but I don’t feel like they’re trying to actually understand. And they’re offering me money and help and everything, but they never apologized. They never apologized for all the crap they did, for going behind my back, or for believing a man dressed up as dinosaur over their _own daughter_ when he _touched me_ as a damn _kid_!” Britta angrily explained.

“Ah, that.” Duncan replied, recalling the events Britta had told him of years earlier. “That isn’t exactly great parenting, no. What it sounds like to me, is that your parents are living in denial. Throughout your life, it appears to me like they’ve lived in blissful ignorance, simply attempting to make you live to their ideal. And though they might have adapted that slightly by now, it appears that they aren’t willing to accept that they made mistakes in the past, or are perhaps only trying to account for that in indirect manners, such as offering you financial aid.”

“Sounds about right.”

“You know, I wish we had gotten more into this when we talked during your first year here.” Duncan commented.

“Well as I’m sure you remember; it wasn’t exactly my idea to have therapy sessions.” Britta responded with a sigh.

“Touché.” Duncan conceded. “Well, I for one am glad we could talk about it now, I think it can be helpful to let out repressed feelings on occasion. Keeping these things inside usually only leads to pain and unhealthy coping mechanics.”

“You’re one to talk about coping mechanics.” Britta snarked.

“Ouch.” Duncan said dramatically. “Well you see Britta, that therapists are there to help others, but aren’t always able to help themselves. It’s quite ironic, really.”

“How about I therapize you?” Britta suggested with a tinge of excitement in her voice.

“Britta, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Duncan replied, reluctant to agree to her idea.

“Why not? I need practice, and my friends never let me. If you want to help me, this can be a good way to do it. Worst case, I just listen to you talk, and you can let out some repressed feelings.” Britta argued.

“Clever, using my words against me.” Duncan said, shaking his head slightly at her. “Fine, I’ll indulge you a little bit.” He finally relented.

“Okay, great!” Britta exclaimed happily.

They were then met with awkward silence. Britta didn’t say anything, while Duncan appeared to be waiting for Britta to say something.

“I think this is the time when you start asking me things, or suggest I start talking about something.” Duncan reminded her.

“Oh, right. Uhm. You mentioned your parents earlier, can you tell me a bit more about your relationship with them?” Britta asked.

“Well, my mother is dead.” Duncan remarked flatly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Duncan! I didn’t know, I’m sorry!” Britta said right away, urgently trying to fix the situation.

“That’s okay, I hadn’t told anyone here, except Jeff. It’s why I left Greendale last year, she was sick again, and didn’t have much time left. I went back to spend some time with her, and then stayed a bit longer after she passed. It wouldn’t make sense for me to return in the middle of the semester anyway.” Duncan explained.

“Oh, okay. My condolences.”

“Thank you.”

“But if you’re comfortable talking about it, how was your relationship with her while she was alive?” Britta asked.

“Well, as I mentioned earlier, my mother was a whore. And not in the bad person sense, that was her day job. Or, night job, really.”

“I got that part.”

“Right. Well, we lived above a pub in the town of Scunthorpe, where she also did most of her work. And let me tell you, it was a bit awkward to come to school and hearing about which people’s dads slept with my mum the night prior. Regardless, she worked a lot to provide for us, but she was never really there. I’d go to school, and she’d be asleep. Once I got back, she’d be there for a few hours before she had to go to work. Because of that, I rarely saw her. Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, because she got back and instantly got in a fight with my dad. You see, he’d get jealous, which naturally didn’t work too well with mum’s work.” Duncan detailed.

“Ah. That doesn’t sound especially healthy. How were your interactions when she was around?”

“Mostly positive. I remember asking her about why she was always gone, but she only told me she had work. It took a few years before I realized why she was working late. She was very nice to me, but it was hard to have any relationship with her when she was never there.” Duncan replied thoughtfully.

“What did you think of her job personally?” 

Duncan took a deep breath. “Well, it wasn’t great. It meant that she wasn’t around, and I got a lot of stick in school after the other kids got a whiff of what mum was doing. But I don’t fault her for it. She did what she felt she had to do to provide for us. And if my father didn’t burn through all that money every night, then perhaps she’d have succeeded too.” 

“You mentioned your father, how was your relationship with him?” 

“Non-existant. When he wasn’t at work, he was down at the pub, spending all his money getting drunk. His idea of spending time with me was to take me with him down the stairs so I could play darts or sit around doing nothing while he drank. At one stage, he wasn’t paying rent and spent all his money on drinking and on buying drugs, so the pub owner started overcharging him for drinks, so he’d pay his rent that way. It took him months to realize.” Duncan detailed with a frustrated sigh. Britta looked at him with wide eyes, in shock from his recollection.

“That’s awful! I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Duncan responded, eliciting a forced, tight-lipped smile from Britta. “In any case, one day he just up and left, presumably after one too many fights with my mother. They divorced shortly thereafter, and not many months later, I left for America.”

“How about since then, how has your relationship been with them?” Britta asked.

“With my father, none. I had some contact with mum, as she at least tried to stay in touch with me. That’s why I went back when she got sick, as I felt like I owed her that at least. It wasn’t an awful lot of contact though, but the bare minimum is better than none.” 

“I can see that. Even if they’re awful, I can at least tell my parents that. Have you considered trying to reach out to him?”

“Not even for a second.” Duncan replied instantly, without a shred of doubt in his voice.

“Are you sure? I think it really helped Jeff.”

“Positive. As much as it would be lovely to tell that cock to go to hell, it’s not worth neither my time, nor effort to track him down to do it.” Duncan replied adamantly.

“What about your grandfather? How is he?”

“Dead.” Duncan answered flatly.

“How was he when he was alive then?” Britta asked as a follow-up.

“He was a good man. He had some money, so he let me come with him, and he helped pay my college degree. He died quite a few years ago, sadly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s alright, he was getting up there in age regardless. Leonard-levels of old. Still can’t believe how that decrepit old bastard is hanging around here.

“Okay then.” Britta said, putting on a forced smile, then cleared her throat. “I have one last thing I want to ask about, before I have to go home – my cat needs me.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you drink so much?” Britta asked.

“I like the taste of a good pint of beer.”

“Duncan, don’t lie to me.”

“Fine. I do like the taste though.” He made sure to point out first. “But the real reason is that I’m a sad and lonely man, Britta. Drinking turned into my way to cope with the fact that I flushed my research career down the toilet, ended up in Greendale of all places, with no real friends, no chances of finding anyone who likes me, and no prospects for the future. And that is why I drink so much.” 

“Oh.” Britta merely uttered, struggling to find the right words.

“Yeah, not very glamourous, is it?”

“No, I guess not. But I guess it comes back to coping mechanics in the end.” Britta pointed out.

“I guess it does.”

“Have you considered going to rehab for your drinking?” 

“A few times, but in the end my thoughts circled back to the same issue every time.” Duncan acknowledged.

“And that is?”

“That going to rehab wouldn’t solve any of the reasons why I end up drinking, if anything it would make it even worse. If I take a leave of absence to go to rehab right now, I imagine Frankie will be the first one to lobby for me to get fired if I so much as touched a drop of alcohol again.”

“Would that be so bad though?” Britta asked.

“Getting fired? Definitely. Getting fired from Greendale is like being tossed into maximum security prison because normal prison can’t handle you. There’s no coming back from that.” Duncan replied instantly.

“No, I meant about the drinking. Would it be so bad if you stopped drinking?” Britta clarified.

“Drinking is what I know, Britta. I grew up around drinkers. My father was a drunk, all his friends were drunks. I grew up over a pub. It’s all I know, and it’s been my way of self-medicating for as long as I can remember.” 

“Still, wouldn’t it be worth a try? It’s clear that it’s not making you any happier.” 

“I’ve tried before, but inevitably I fall off the wagon again before long. My best right now is to just make it infrequent and in smaller doses. Turns out that sidewalks aren’t especially good for your back after all.” 

“Idiot.”

“You could call me that, yes.” Duncan joked.

“I’m serious though. Give it a proper try. If you get the urge to drink, do something else to put your mind off it. Watch a movie. Take a walk. Call someone to hang out without drinking.” 

“I’m not sure you realize the paradox in that. I’m lonely, and among the few times I have anyone to talk to is when I go to the nearby English pub.” Duncan pointed out.

“Fine, call me then.” Britta offered.

Duncan froze instantly. His eyes opened widely, looking almost comically big behind his glasses. 

“Duncan?” Britta asked.

“Y-y-y-eah, I’d like that.” He finally stammered out in response.

“Great! Give me a call, and we’ll figure something out. Maybe you can meet Chomsky? Oh, and animals! You should get an animal! They’re great for therapy!” Britta said excitedly.

“Britta, I’m not sure if-“

“Oh, and if he likes you, you can hold Chomsky while in therapize you! It’ll be perfect!”

“Uhm.” Duncan muttered; a bit lost for words in the midst of Britta’s energy.

“I gotta go now though, I need to buy him food, he didn’t have much left when I left this morning, and I’m completely out. See you tomorrow!” Britta said, and stood up urgently.

“Right. See you in class Britta.” Duncan said, and Britta smiled brightly before she hurriedly walked out of the classroom. Duncan simply sat there befuddled, confused and amazed by her.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a big thank you to the Community Discord fanfic channel! If you aren't there already, come join us!


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